Kiss in the Dark
by SnapeSeraphin
Summary: In response to Utopia's cocktail challenge. Hermione lets her temper get her into trouble: how will she get out of it? LMHG, AU.


**A/N:** inspired by Utopia's cocktail challenge on AFF. I have been wanting to answer that one for ages, but never had the right inspiration….until now, it seems.

This fic is post-Voldemort at an unspecified Ministry event. Lucius and Hermione are both single.

* * *

_Kiss in the Dark_

"Lucius Malfoy, you're despicable!"

A sound slap reverberated through the sudden silence in the Ministry's formal ballroom. All of the guests stared in fascinated horror at the little slip of a witch in a chocolate lace dress standing in front of the Malfoy patriarch.

Although rather more people than would openly admit it silently agreed with her, there was no one who would have dared to do what the diminutive witch had just done. Malfoy didn't take kindly to being made a fool of and the number of witnesses always seemed to be directly proportionate to the magnitude of his ire. Needless to say, with a couple hundred people watching some of who were journalists and press photographers, the Granger girl was in a vast deal of trouble.

They watched with bated breath as Malfoy slowly turned his head back to face her, silver eyes burning like glowing coals, while simultaneously his left hand disappeared underneath his robes. In stead of the wand that everybody was expecting to emerge a pristine quadrangle of white cloth appeared which he briefly pressed to the left hand corner of his mouth. His eyes flicked down to the drop of blood now marring the handkerchief's virginity.

"Leave, now, before I change my mind." The words were uttered softly and despite a surprising lack of menace in them, his obvious sincerity was possibly even more frightening.

The Granger girl seemed to have come to the same conclusion. With the defiance she had used to taunt her opponent rapidly disappearing, it seemed almost as if she was physically shrinking in the face of the physically much larger Malfoy.

Colour rapidly flooded her cheeks as if she just realized what exactly she had done. She stumbled backwards a couple of steps, getting well out of reach of the blond wizard who was once again pressing his handkerchief against his mouth, as his burning eyes followed her retreat. As soon as she felt there was sufficient distance between them, she turned around and all but ran from the room.

It was some time later that Ron Weasley found her huddled against the wall between a large potted plant and an elegant, champagne-coloured chaise longue opposite the ladies room.

"Hermione?" he asked tentatively.

She lifted her head from its position on top of her knees to give him an imploring look.

"What the hell was I thinking, Ron?" she asked in a pitiable tone of voice, "why didn't you bloody well _stop_ me?"

He gave her a look that was half fond exasperation, half apprehension. "Because you're scary as hell, Hermione; it takes a man far braver than I am to try and stop you, you know that."

She responded with a little harrumph that might have been part sob.

"On the other hand…." he mused with an air of serious contemplation as he allowed himself to slide down the wall next to her, "you have just ensured, that no matter what happens, you will always be in a league of your own."

Hermione looked sideways at him with a spark of interest in her eyes. "How so?"

"Well," said Ron, staring at the opposite wall, "I doubt there is any other woman who slapped both Draco _and_ Lucius Malfoy!"

"Ron!" she exclaimed, punching him in the arm, "That's horrible!" but her mouth was already trying to quirk into a smile, despite her efforts to prevent it.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," said he happily, as he stretched his long legs out in front of him. " 's damn impressive, is what it is!"

"Don't make me laugh," Hermione protested, small giggles escaping, "I should be ashamed of myself!"

"You should," Ron agreed with equanimity, "you naughty girl."

Hermione couldn't prevent bursting out laughing.

"Do you know the fairytale of the brave little shoemaker, who killed 7 flies with one swat and was so proud of the fact that he made a sash for himself that read 'Seven with one swat'?" he continued. "Maybe you should start wearing a sash that says 'One with two slaps'"

"One, I'm hardly proud of the fact that I hit both Malfoys and two it should be 'Two with two slaps', if anything," Hermione countered.

"They're both Malfoy, so I say 'One with two slaps.'"

"Ron, I'm not going to start wearing a sash advocating that I go around slapping Malfoys!" Hermione repeated, feeling remarkably like a first-year as she admonished him.

Ron snickered. "Hey, everyone needs a hobby. Besides, I've been trying for ages getting Harry to wear one that says 'One Dark Lord with two Expelliarmusses'."

She couldn't help laughing at that either.

"You're awful!" she told him with remarkably little conviction.

"You know you love me anyway," he remarked with the ease of long practise.

Hermione smiled at him, feeling much less miserable after their silly banter.

"Yeah, I do," she said softly.

It was quiet for a while, as Hermione folded her arms over her knees and laid her head atop of them, facing Ron, while he leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.

"So…"

"So?"

"Why did you slap him?" Ron asked, keeping his voice carefully neutral and his eyes closed, as if the answer didn't matter much to him.

"He is an arrogant, elitist, egotistical, vain, self-absorbed, chauvinistic, cold-hearted, pompous, malicious prick."

"Well," said Ron "can't really argue with that."

He was silent again for a few moments.

"Although…" he hesitated. Hermione lifted her head from her arms, looking at him askance.

"I got the impression you were starting to like him," Ron finished, with a please-don't-hit-me-expression on his face.

"Who?"

"Lucius Malfoy."

"Who, me? Liking Malfoy? What on earth gave you that ridiculous idea?" she sputtered.

"Well, a couple of weeks ago you were going on and on about how clever he is and how he knows all these legal references and precedents by heart and how, if the current Minister still wants his advice on all sorts of stuff in spite of what he has done, he really must be extraordinarily smart and maybe not so evil as we had all thought up until now," Ron said in one breath, as if he were afraid that if he didn't get it all out at once, she would never hear him out.

"Oh…well…" Hermione cleared her throat uneasily. She took hold of a fold of her dress and absentmindedly started to match it to the lace covering her knees so that the two layers were precisely on top of each other. She chanced a quick glance at Ron, before turning her attention back to the fabric.

"Well, I…when I was regularly forced to be in the same room as he since I started working for the Ministry, I might have started thinking that he, you know, wasn't so bad…" she confessed warily.

"So, why go off at him like that then?" Ron asked, puzzled.

"Well I happened to overhear something he said as I walked past and after what you told me last week, it just…set me off." Her voice gaining in strength after her awkward confession, she continued: "I can't believe how self-absorbed the man is! He doesn't care about anything but his own gain, completely oblivious to the problems he might be causing for other people!" She fumed.

Ron gave her an odd look.

"What did you overhear him saying, exactly?"

"Oh, he was gloating about how he had bought this property in Diagon Alley recently, managed to snag it right from under the noses of some other prospective buyers, because of his contacts at the Ministry. Said he was going to make a tidy profit off of it by letting it as storage units," she fumed.

"Really?" said Ron, looking decidedly uncomfortable for some reason.

"And having heard from you and Ginny how the building next to Wheezes was for sale and how, even though the deal was all but done, the owner suddenly decided to sell the property to somebody else, cheating Fred and George out of some much needed space to expand their business, well…." She ended on a huff.

Ron was slowly pushing himself away from the wall, turning to face her.

"And you think Malfoy is the one who blew the deal and bought the property?" he asked in a strangled voice.

"Well, it is an awfully big coincidence, don't you think? It's not that there is such an enormous amount of property for sale on Diagon Alley," she said. "That's why it was such a low blow of him to cheat the twins out of their deal with the owner, because it'll be ages before there'll be an opportunity like this again."

She pushed herself off of the wall, got up and started pacing. "I can't believe I was actually starting to like the man!" she fumed. "I thought maybe he had already been negotiating before the twins became involved, but you should have heard him just now! I bet he just couldn't resist the opportunity to thwart a Weasley. Bigoted, horrible man!"

"Ehm, Hermione…" said Ron.

"And then of course, he has to brag about it," she went on, oblivious to her friend. "It wouldn't surprise me at all if he doesn't even know what to do with the building…." She muttered.

"Hermione!"

Startled out of her diatribe, Hermione looked up to find Ron also on his feet, the tips of his ears slowly turning red.

"About that property…" he prevaricated.

There was a look of dawning apprehension on her face. "No, Ron…" she begged.

He looked down to where he was awkwardly rubbing the carpet with the tip of his shoe.

"No, no, no...."

"He...eh, that is to say… Lucius Malfoy did indeed buy the property next to the twins' shop…"

Hermione wrung her hands.

"And the twins are renting one of the storage units he's offering, which will free up their own storage at the shop and allow them to use that space to expand the shop floor," Ron continued softly.

Hermione let out a little squeak of dismay.

"It is…uh…actually much more advantageous for them, than if they would have bought the entire building, because now they don't have to invest in the upkeep of the property and all the permits and stuff…"

Hermione felt as if somebody had just pulled the rug right from under her feet.

"Oh and a number of the other shopkeepers are also going to rent extra storage space, everybody is really pleased, actually…."

For the second time that evening, Ron was punched in the arm.

"You didn't think it important to tell me about this?" Hermione demanded, her voice unnaturally high.

"I didn't know it was such a big deal!" defended Ron.

"I hit him…I HIT him," moaned Hermione.

"Yes well, we all saw that, Hermione." He squeaked as she punched him again.

"Well, couldn't you have warned me?" she demanded, bringing them back to their earlier topic.

"How was I supposed to know you were going to wallop him?" cried Ron.

"You know my temper can't be trusted around Malfoys!" Hermione countered heatedly.

"Your temper cannot be trusted around anyone, Hermione! Besides, the last time you hit one was in third year, I thought you might have gotten over it!"

"I'm going to have to apologize," Hermione whispered, "Oh dear God, he's going to kill me! How am I ever going to face him again?"

"Come on, Hermione, it can't be that bad," Ron cajoled. "I mean, he's probably forgotten all about it already."

"Oh sure, I only slapped him in the face in front of a couple hundred people, including but not limited to the Minister of Magic, the entire Wizengamot, a least a representative of almost all the pureblood families and most of his business partners!" Hermione ranted in an increasingly hysterical tone of voice.

Ron looked miserable. "If you put it like that, it does sound bad," he admitted.

"There isn't some sort of Pureblood apologizing ritual I don't know about?" she asked in a little voice.

He shook his head.

She sighed, trying in vain to dislodge the heavy stone that was weighing down her stomach.

"Plain old grovelling it is, then." With that, she started in the direction of the ballroom.

"Wait, Hermione! You're going to do this here…_now_?" Ron asked, grabbing her arm and turning her back to face him.

"I just humiliated the man in front of his peers, Ron," she said repressively, "I think it is only fair that I let _him_ humiliate _me_ with the same audience."

It took Ron a couple of moments to pick his jaw up off the floor, gather his wits and follow after her.

Nobody paid Hermione any particular attention as she re-entered the ballroom; she had half expected to be stopped at the door and be told she was banned from Ministry get-togethers for the rest of her life. Harry, Ginny, Molly and Arthur immediately flocked towards her as soon as they noticed her, their concern deepening upon seeing her white face.

"Are you alright, dear?" asked Molly and tried to put an arm around Hermione's shoulders, but the girl moved away with an apologetic smile, leaving her surrogate mother astonished.

It didn't take long to find the silvery-blond head she was looking for at the opposite side of the room. Her stomach clenched as she watched him converse with ease with a couple of wizards she knew to be high-ranking Ministry officials.

As she headed for him in a straight line, she was unaware of the Weasleys staring after her, or the fact that the people in front of her automatically moved out of her way.

Nearing the group he was a part of, the ball of nervous energy in her abdomen grew exponentially as she caught snippets of their conversation in his cultured voice.

She took a deep breath to bolster her courage as she came to a stop behind him.

"Mr Malfoy," she called timidly.

He didn't appear to have heard her, so she reached out and softly brushed his shoulder with her hand. "Excuse me, Mr Malfoy," she said a little louder. When he stiffened and started to turn around, she pulled her hand back as if the expensive fabric of his robes burnt her.

His face was an impervious mask, but his eyes were flashing as he looked down his nose at her. Damn the man for being so much taller than she was Hermione thought nonsensically.

After waiting for a couple of seconds for him to ask her what she wanted, she suddenly realised two things. The first was that he wasn't going to acknowledge her any more than he already had and the second was that, for the second time that evening, everybody was watching them with morbid fascination.

She nervously cleared her throat.

"Mr Malfoy…I eh…I…" she stuttered, staring at the corner of his mouth, where she could see a small cut surrounded by some bruising. Damn, she must have unintentionally clipped him with the ring she was wearing. Even when she still meant to slap him, she hadn't meant to do that.

"I recently found out…that is to say, I realised…I mean…" she floundered as her attention kept wandering to his, admittedly minor, injury…. an injury however, _she_ had inflicted.

She chanced a quick glance at his eyes, but he didn't look any friendlier than he had before. Not that he had any reason to, her mind unmercifully pointed out: first she slapped him in front of a room full of people and now she was stuttering at him like an idiot…again in front of a room full of people. And she couldn't stop looking at his mouth!

"Bother!" she cursed and with one minute flick of her wrist, her wand slipped into her hand. She swished it with the ease of long practise, not even bothering to pronounce the words of the healing charm. It pleased her immensely to see his skin return to its usual, ivory colour and the cut all but disappear.

Only when she lowered her wand, she realised that several people in their vicinity, including a couple of off-duty Aurors, were doing the same. The only person, who hadn't even twitched when she drew her wand, was the man standing in front of her. As she felt her cheeks glowing with a furious blush, her eyes met his in a moment of gratitude on her side. She was certain that, if he had hexed first and asked questions later, nobody would have blamed him.

Sheathing her wand with a flick – the habit so ingrained she didn't even consider the possibility of anybody interpreting it as another attack on Malfoy's person, she determinedly squared her shoulders.

"Mr Malfoy," she said with an outward projection of calm she didn't even remotely feel, "I have accused you unfairly just now and I want to offer you my deepest and sincerest apologies."

There. That summed everything up quite nicely and now that she wasn't distracted by his mouth anymore, she managed not to stutter.

Her feeling of accomplishment quickly eroded in the face of his silent stoicism. Meeting his gaze once more, she could see his eyes were still smouldering and the stone on her stomach returned with a vengeance.

Right. How stupid was she? Apologizing wasn't going to make him forget she had slapped him as if he were some errant schoolboy. She sighed, her eyes – unbeknownst to her – turning positively mournful.

"I really _do_ apologize," she repeated quietly, holding his gaze for a moment. Then, she turned around and with head held high and shoulders squared, she regally walked towards the exit once again.

Once outside, when an entire roomful of people was no longer watching her every move with rapt attention and the sound of her heels on the wooden floor was no longer the only sound to be heard, she picked up her pace. There was a call of 'Hermione!' in Ron's voice somewhere behind her, but she wasn't in the mood for company or cheering up, so she broke into a jog and before anyone could see where she was headed, disappeared into the soothing darkness of the cloakroom.

Moving to the back of the room, where she could barely see the light falling in from the hallway, she slid down to the floor and rested back against the mass of cloaks hanging above her.

"That was just brilliant, Granger. Could you have found a more effective way to commit career suicide?" she grumbled to herself as she covered her eyes wearily.

And then, for reasons that quite eluded her at the moment, she began to cry.

"Oh God, I'm so stupid," she muttered. "He'll hate me now and I'm never going to get the chance to work with him more closely and I'll certainly never get to see if he is as intelligent as he seems and it's my own stupid fault!"

She sniffled pitiably.

A dark shadow was suddenly in front of her and even though she couldn't see his features, she could see enough of the general build and length of the person in front of her, that she could positively identify him as Ron Weasley.

"Please allow me some time to wallow in self-pity with regards to my self-destructive behaviour," she commented morbidly.

Ron had learned, courtesy of similar occurrences in the past, that at times like these, it was best to just let her ramble about whatever she would and just be there. Without saying a word he squatted in front of her and offered her his messily folded handkerchief. Hermione couldn't help but remember Lucius Malfoy's pristine one and promptly burst into tears again.

"Do you think he hates me now?" she whispered. "More than before I mean?" She dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief. "I mean, I was thinking about what you said just now and I think you may have been right…. I was starting to like him. I mean, of course, I've always known that he is terribly handsome, but it used to be more than negated by his perceived evilness…"

Ron sighed.

"You don't mind me discussing this with you, do you?" she suddenly asked uncertainly, "I mean, I know we said we would be just friends, but if it annoys you…." She trailed off as she heard more than saw him shake his head.

"Oh, right then," she said in relief.

It was quiet for a while as she toyed mindlessly with the handkerchief in her hands.

"You know, getting better acquainted with him, I really do think we had a much skewed picture of him during the wars," she said. "If I hadn't been so stupid as to destroy all hope of a pleasant working relationship, I would have wanted to try and become friends and maybe find out what his motivations were…you know, to join Voldemort."

After all these years, there was still a sharp, indrawn breath from Ron at the name.

"It's no use now though," she concluded morosely. "Did you see the way he was looking at me? I never saw him look at me like that, not even at the height of the wars… It is as if before I only ever saw a mask, while today he truly despised me." She felt fat tears once again start rolling down her cheeks. "Gods, I'm so sorry..." she said, dabbing at her eyes, "if only I could take it back, I would, in a heartbeat….I fear I have irrevocably destroyed something and the worst part is that I didn't even appreciate what I had…"

She sniffed again.

"You must think I am really stupid," she muttered, a little calmer.

Instead of answering her, she felt his hands come up to her face and, ever so gently, wipe the last of her tears away. Hermione closed her eyes and allowed herself to be comforted.

"Thank you for being such a good friend, Ron," she murmured, moving to lean against his torso, her head resting on his shoulder, one of her hands in the middle of his chest.

She relaxed completely as he began to soothingly run his hands over her back. Shifting a little to find an even better position, she ended up with her nose resting against his throat. Being so close to his skin, his clean masculine scent invaded her nose.

"You smell really nice," she commented drowsily. She joked: "Are we absolutely certain we can't–" Whatever she had been about to say was abruptly cut off as he hooked a finger under her chin, tilted her head backwards and confidently claimed her lips.

Hermione was so surprised that her eyes widened comically at first, before the sensations of the kiss began to take over. His lips were very soft and slightly moist as they moved against hers, the hand that had guided her chin upwards now sliding to her slender throat with the thumb cupping her jaw. She couldn't suppress a slight moan at the delicious sensations he was eliciting, her eyes closing of their own accord. Gods, she didn't know what he had been doing in the intervening years since they'd last kissed, but she sure as hell wasn't complaining! When she felt his tongue swipe tantalizingly at her upper lip, she didn't hesitate to open her mouth for him, her own tongue coming forward eagerly to meet his.

Shifting so she could move her head into a position that allowed him to deepen their kiss, she found her left hand sliding along the front of his chest and slipping underneath his jacket. She felt, more than heard him moan softly the moment her fingers accidentally scraped over a stiff little nipple. The sound only made her attack his tongue with more fervour, sucking it enticingly into her mouth, enjoying the herbal, slightly bitter, cherry flavour of his drink.

Gods, she could get used to the taste of cherry, she thought fervently.

Cherry….even as her hand continued to stroke up and down the warm chest she was held against, every now and then scraping her fingernails over his nipple – quite deliberately this time- making him gasp for breath….

Her train of thought derailed quite spectacularly when she came to a sudden realisation: Ron detested cherry. And now that she thought about it…having his nipples touched (or scratched or tweaked or suckled or bitten) did absolutely nothing for him.

With a gasp, she pushed against her companion's chest.

"You're not Ron," she said accusingly.

She squinted in the darkness as if that would somehow enable her to see who he was. There was another beat of silence, then a calm male voice that was vaguely familiar said: "Indeed not."

"Sweet Circe!" exclaimed Hermione, scrambling away from him and getting up. She stumbled out of the cloakroom, cursing her unsteady legs as she hastily moved in the direction of the all but empty bar.

Without paying attention to her surroundings, she dropped onto the first barstool she saw and ordered a cointreau on ice. She took a large sip as soon as it was placed in front of her, letting it linger in her mouth and negate the taste of cherries.

"God…" she whispered, suddenly realising she still held his handkerchief in her hand.

It was a snowy white and held smudges of her mascara. Just as she feared when she refolded it, there was a single drop of blood on the right hand corner near the crease. Staring at it, she pulled her upper lip back over her upper teeth, her tong licking absentmindedly along the curve. Damn, she could still taste traces of cherry in spite of the cointreau.

She brought the handkerchief to her nose, closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Immediately she was assaulted by a clean, masculine scent, enhanced by the surprisingly subtle scent of a cologne that smelled decadent, for lack of a better word.

"I'd like a Kiss in the Dark," said a man from right behind her, making her jump in her haste to lower the handkerchief and hide it in her hand. He was so close, that she felt his warm breath on the sensitive shell of her ear; she even imagined she could smell the cherries on his breath.

"I suppose you think this is funny," she commented wearily as she turned around to look at the surprisingly bland expression on Lucius Malfoy's face.

"What, exactly, am I supposed to find amusing?" he inquired politely, his voice betraying nothing.

"Oh don't give me that! You must have been hard-pressed not to laugh your head off in there! Poor little Mudblood…having a crush on the Pureblood Prince!" she sneered. "Well, congratulations, Mr Malfoy, you've won! Not only did I let you humiliate me in front of all these people, which one might argue was only fair, since I humiliated you first; no, I also unintentionally revealed to you that I found you attractive and wanted your good opinion! If that isn't worth fifty points to Slytherin, I don't know what is!"

The man had the unbelievable gall to remain almost entirely unperturbed by her rant, going even so far as to appear faintly amused.

"And why, pray tell, did you feel that I humiliated you?" he inquired calmly, giving a quick nod of appreciation to the bartender when he was handed a cocktail.

Hermione pulled up her eyebrows in disbelief. "You mean, not verbally acknowledging my apology was meant to tell me that you accept it?" she drawled sarcastically, her temper in spite of all the previous happenings that day starting to flare up.

"You know very little of Pureblood customs, don't you?" he asked, as he casually took a sip from his drink.

Hermione just stared at him for a couple of moments, trying to figure out his intentions. His eyes, unsurprisingly, gave nothing away. With a sigh, she slowly and deliberately got up, put down her tumbler of cointreau and handed him back his handkerchief.

"Thank you for lending it to me," she intoned as politely as she could, then made as if to leave.

She hadn't taken two steps, when she was halted by his voice.

"If I had truly rebuffed your apology, do you think I would have come after you?"

Hermione hesitated. A part of her wanted to just leave and forget this day every happened, another part couldn't help but be curious.

"While I have seldom been quite so deeply insulted as by you, today," he spoke in a hushed tone of voice from directly behind her, "I must also admit, that there are very few people, who would have had the courage to stand up to me like that."

She closed her eyes in embarrassment, her cheeks flushing bright crimson at his words.

"However," he continued, gently grasping her arm and turning her back around to face him, "surpassing that, it took an unparalleled amount of courage, to come back in there and apologize the way you did."

He brought up his hand to tuck a stray curl behind her ear.

"And even though I have no idea what brought on this sudden change of heart – or your ire at me to begin with, for that matter – I find myself positively…entranced."

As the hand that had touched her hair trailed hypnotically from her ear to her throat, the lightest of touches dancing along her collarbone, Hermione couldn't suppress a shiver at the pleasant tingling sensation his touch evoked and she felt her breathing speed up.

"So how exactly did you accept my apology?" she murmured, trying to satisfy her curiosity before he rendered her completely defenceless.

"I turned around to face you. Once I realised it was you, I didn't turn my back on you. I allowed you to plead your case. I didn't use any of the curses I am allowed by law to use on any person who insults me in public, not even when you drew your wand on me first and lastly, I did not have you arrested."

She literally felt faint as the ramifications of her actions sunk in.

"You could have done all that?" she whispered, only half aware he had gripped both of her elbows to steady her.

He gave her a solemn nod.

"And yet you didn't… even when I hadn't apologized yet….or when I drew my wand on you!" she gasped, only now realising how careless the gesture had been.

"I'm a good judge of character," he said calmly, waiting a beat. "Besides, the Aurors couldn't find you."

At that, her knees buckled from under her. If it hadn't been for Lucius' fast reflexes, supporting her and guiding her into one of the large armchairs scattered around the bar area, she would probably have fallen.

"That was a joke," he stated dryly.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "Apart from discovering you are far more forgiving than I ever would have given you credit for, I was also unaware you possessed a more than rudimentary sense of humour." He smirked in response, but she found it a lot less annoying than she used to.

"Here, drink this," he instructed sternly as he handed her his cocktail.

Hermione dutifully obeyed him, letting the unusual mixture linger in her mouth, saturating it with its cherry flavour before burning its way to her stomach.

"Better now?" he inquired, squatting in front of her chair and giving her a measuring look.

"Why did you accept my apology?" she changed the subject.

"Like I said," he leaned forward to bring his mouth close to her ear, "I don't think I have ever seen anything as breathtakingly beautiful as you were just now, when you were apologizing to me. So brave, yet so humble…so proud, yet so sincere…. I couldn't have refused you if I'd wanted to," he confessed.

"So tell me, my faerie, what did I do to incur your wrath, hm?" he nuzzled her throat gently, inhaling her scent.

"I thought you had swindled the Weasley twins out of a property that was all but theirs," she confessed.

Abruptly he pulled back, his eyes narrowing at her when he stated: "You take an eager interest in their family's concerns."

"I do," she replied honestly, puzzled by his sudden retreat.

"And you still hope to regain '_Ron's'_ affections one day?" He couldn't suppress the sneer.

She narrowed her eyes at him in turn, on the verge of telling him it was none of his business, but lastly decided there had already been too many misunderstandings for one day.

"Ron and I are just friends."

"Is that why you let him kiss you in the cloakroom?" he asked.

"I didn't let him kiss me in the cloakroom… I let _you_ kiss me in the cloakroom," she corrected him calmly.

"Still, you thought I was him," he countered.

"Not for one moment after you started kissing me. Believe me: Ron has never been able to make me feel quite like that."

At his still somewhat distrustful look, she dug up some more of that vaunted courage and leaned forward to return the favour on that little trick he just pulled.

"Besides," she whispered huskily into his ear as she let her hand slip inside his jacket once more, flicked her finger against his nipple and feeling her lips curl into a self-satisfied smile at his gasp, "he was also never so _delightfully_ responsive."

"Are you always such a minx?" he asked, slightly breathlessly.

"I improve on acquaintance," she murmured teasingly.

"I'm afraid I can't take your word for that," he said against her lips, his mouth softly brushing hers. "I always do my own research."

"What a coincidence," she whispered, rubbing her lips sensuously against his adam's apple, "So do I."

"Yes" he sighed blissfully, distracted for a moment "There is however still the matter of how I am going to allow you to apologize to me…."

"Well, the way I see it, I still owe you a Kiss in the dark."

"I was actually asking the bartender for a new drink, but I think I can live with your version," Lucius declared with a smug grin.

As he closed the distance between them with a passionate kiss, Hermione found she really didn't mind.


End file.
